


starcrossed

by nuntears



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novel)
Genre: DFAB reader, Deutsch | German, Dry Humping, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Internal Conflict, Kidnapping, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader has a boyfriend, Vaginal Fingering, actually kinda some comfort but it doesn't really help lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9570959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuntears/pseuds/nuntears
Summary: you were ready to die. strade tries to change that.aka strade experimenting with breaking people in new ways





	

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from tumblr! you can find the fic originally [here](http://nuntears.tumblr.com/post/156833490691/%0A)

you knew strade was gonna kill you.

from the moment you woke up tied to a pole in this damned basement, under the panic, you understood. when he came down and told you if you cut yourself enough he would let you leave, you knew. he was experienced; he had done this too many times, countless times. he wasn’t gonna let you go.

he had never let anyone go.

that had been the last time you saw him, which was what you guessed to be at least two days ago. but it’s hard to tell, without anything to really confirm that time was even passing.

you were hungry and thirsty and stiff from the position you’ve been locked into. but you appreciated it, it was giving you time to think. about the life you’ve lived. and the fact you were going to die. a fact you had come to accept.

you almost scared yourself with how ready you were to die. you weren’t suicidal or depressed. in fact you were the opposite. the last few months with your boyfriend have been the happiest of your life. you had always said, you can die happy. and in a way it rang true.

if you weren’t thinking of your imminent death, you spent thinking of him, and it did make the process easier. not thinking of the future – or all your potential or everything you’ll miss out on – but the past.

_(his smile was sweet and sincere and lopsided. his eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled too big and he always smiled when he was with you. his fingertips would brush your arm feather soft, in a repetitive movement, like stroking a cat. the streams of sunlight made his brown hair look like gold and his lashes translucent. he would be so close to your face and you could feel his breath on your skin as he whispers to you in his native language. this is when you’d sigh happily and thank the gods. this when you’d think you could die happy. this is when you felt true bliss.)_

you could die content with the life you’ve lived.

and no matter what strade did to your body he couldn’t touch the moments you held close.

 

minutes, hours, days, eternities pass.

you hear footsteps above you, loud, heavy, boot clad feet. it wasn’t the first time you heard it since he left you down here for who knows how long, but it makes you tense up each time. anticipating, like a soldier on the front lines.

he does come this time. the door opens and it almost makes you jump but you had braced yourself. he walks down the wooden stairs with his heavy boots and friendly smile that you wish you had seen through sooner. he flips the light switch and your eyes struggle to adjust. when they finally do he’s in front of you. he’s staring at you funny, like he’s expecting something. you aren’t sure what to do other than stare back. you wait for his first move.

“how you feeling buddy?” he asks, squatting down in front of you. but making a point to keep his height above yours. he looked down at you, keeping eye contact.

“sore.” you mumble, leaning your head up to keep his stare, some of your hair falling away from your face. it’s not a lie. and you had learned quickly that he liked it when you replied to him. but this reply didn’t seem to satisfy him. he was searching your eyes for something and you had no idea of what. 

he breaks eye contact to brush more hair behind your ear, leaving your face entirely bare for him. you don’t flinch. but his hand on your cheek reminds you how close to you he is.

he hums to himself, his eyes trying to find answers on your skin and he drags his hand slowly to your chin, pausing, then moving lower. you try to continue breathing normally as he rests his hand loosely on your neck. you know he can feel your pulse.

slowly, he applies pressure. you drew in a breath as he blocked your airways, your eyes met again.

this was it. you were ready.

you kept your eyes trained on him, even as he brought up another hand, even as black spots started to taint your vision.

_(you thought of your boyfriend, his rough skin, thick fingers, up and down your arm. up and down, up and down. how it’d make you feel sleepy and warm and loved. how the sun loved to compliment him and make him glow. how he was as bright as the sun itself)_

you were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard him speak. you opened your eyes, you don’t know when you closed them.

“Du komisches Ding…”

you feel yourself twitch.

everything began to shift and you felt you were losing your grip on something very vital. you stared at him more intently, more fearful. you parted your lips to speak but nothing could come out as he was literally stealing your breath away.

you had prepared yourself for everything but this.

“ah, there it is.”

you knit your eyebrows, your lungs started to burn, begging for air. you suddenly feel the full impact of his hands around your throats. you can feel the bruises forming under his fingers.

he releases you, pulling away. you lurch forward, wheezing and hacking. desperate for oxygen. eyes wide, you try to comprehend what you just heard.

he watched you with renewed vigor, with even more intent. you could practically feel the heat radiating off him from his new-found excitement.

“you…” you breathe out, it sounds dry. “how…?” 

he wasn’t in your personal space anymore but time seemed to slow. you took him in like it was the first time you were seeing him. his smile was wide, like just before he had you cut yourself. like he was looking at you how he wanted you to be, how you would be, not how you are. 

he chuckled, because everything seems to amuse him. “sprichst du Deutsch?”

“no…not really, but…”

your boyfriend did. and even though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it, strade seemed to know anyways. he smiled at you, kindly, softly. you felt your heart clench.

“i bet he’s worried about you, huh schatzi?” 

you wanted to scream. you wanted to die. this is wrong. it boiled your blood and made you quiver at the same time. you could barely contain yourself. for the first time since you woke up in this basement. you begin to beg.

“no. please, just kill me. that’s what you want to do isn’t it? right? please. please. please, just kill me and get it over with just please don’t–”

he brings his fingers to your face, and you flinch this time. he shushes you. as if you were a frightened child and it was all the more cruel because that’s what he reduced you to.

“what’s wrong, mein schatz?” his fingers crept past your lips. you are shaking even harder. they are in your mouth now. “are you scared? don’t worry liebling, ich werde dir nicht weh tun.”

you try to babble and beg but his fingers are pressing against your tongue and feeling against the inside of your cheek and they push further in until your gagging. now you’re crying, and he begins to laugh.

“hm? you can’t take just a few fingers? i’m sure you’ve taken more than this in your mouth before, right schatzi?” he’s teasing and you find yourself ashamed for some reason. he pushes more fingers in and you gag louder. bile is rising in your throat but you fight to keep it down. you want to think your dignity is still salvageable. you look away, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“schatzi? hey! schatzi~!” he sings, laughing “look at me. come on, liebling.” 

you do. his fingers aren’t twisting inside your mouth anymore. they are still, waiting. your eyes are wide and afraid. his eyes are mischievous and carnal.

then you feel it.

his other hand, sneaking under the waistband of your shorts and then yanking your shorts down all together. you flail your legs in an attempt to kick him but he brings his hand out of your mouth and uses it to hold down your legs and you scream because you would rather die

he swaps hands quickly and the one covered in your saliva is the one that drags your panties and your shorts down further. he straddles you, keeping one hand at your crotch and the other on your cheek. he’s shushing you again. you quiet down, but more as an attempt to quell your panic and ready yourself. prepare. because that’s all you can do. you thought he might do something like this but why does he have to do it like _this_.

“it’s ok schatzi, i got you. i’ve been so mean to you, haven’t i? here, let me be sweet. lass mich dich zufrieden stellen, liebling.” 

you shook your head hard. you mumbled ‘no’s and ‘please’s and he smiled, welcoming it. feeding on your pleas. your tears are flowing freely now.

he pressed a finger against your clit, slowly, circled it a little, then pressed hard. it didn’t hurt as much as it felt uncomfortable. it made you sob all the same. hanging your head and thinking, maybe if you wanted it hard enough, you can die of by sheer will power.

his finger was dry now, but that didn’t stop him from circling your clit, like it was a joystick rather than a sensitive part of your body. like this was a game.

his pointer finger begin teasing your opening. you pulled at your restraints, you became louder.

“please don’t do this please no please no no not this please no no no”

he pushed the finger in and it was dry. so dry. it hurt, and he pumped it slowly. you were screaming now. he pretended he couldn’t hear you, focused on the task at hand.

he was blushing, and he let out a shuddering sigh. he was getting pretty worked up. you tried to keep quiet. for your own sake to try and calm down but also to spite him. he continued his slow pace, and your entrance tried to lubricate itself in an attempt to accommodate to him. 

it helped the pain, made it easier as he pulled his finger in and out. just as you managed to relax yourself, he added another finger. the finger on your clit pressed hard again. you let out a hiss as quietly as you could.

he was flushed now, sweat began rolling down his neck and he was obviously enjoying his more than you.

he started circling your clit at a different angle, and it actually felt good. you remembered

_(”how’s this?” he asked, massaging your clit and kissing your neck. he smelt musky and cottony and like the perfect sunday morning._

_“ah, yeah, that’s good. keep doing that.” you shuddered. you closed your eyes to feel it better. he was a quick learner, he caught on to what made you feel good pretty fast. he nibbled your earlobe._

_“schatzi… you look so pretty like this.” you could hear him smiling. you were so lucky. so lucky)_

strade bit your shoulder. and you let out a yelp. you realized you were moaning, and a lot wetter, he had sped up his pace. your body was giving in.

“braves Mädchen" he muttered, lips against your shoulder. his hair was so close and you could smell him. he smelt like dirt and blood and sweat. he licked the forming bruise, then bit again, harder, breaking skin this time. you screamed out.

he barked out a throaty laugh. “you know,” he says excitedly, begging to pump his fingers faster, deeper. licking the side of your neck “i was beginning to wonder when you would open up to me.” he moved back to your shoulder and sucked at the blood. “scheiße. you were worth the wait.”

you bucked up to meet his thrusts. you tensed up at the realization and he laughed. “that’s it. good girl. it feels good right?” you sob again.

“shhh, i’m right here. it’s ok. just feel good for me. just be a good girl.”

fat tears roll down your face as you hold back the moans. you can’t believe it feels good. you wish it didn’t. you wish that he’d just take you like the monster he is. instead he’s going slow and even if it hurts you want it to be worse. he shouldn’t make this intimate. he shouldn’t be sweet. he should tear you to sheds. and you’d rather to be torn to sheds because that was easier than _this_.

he’s thrusting his fingers at a hard pace, thumb still circling your clit. he presses his fingers up inside of you suddenly, stroking at your walls. it elicits a sharp gasp out of you. and you leave your mouth hanging open, head tilted up and away from him.

_(it feels really good._

_you never want him to stop. you can feel his love with every touch, every kiss. he is warmth in the purest form.)_

“hey, schatzi. how is it?” he’s moving his head, trying to get into your line of sight, trying to get your attention. “hey.” he repeats the movement, pressing his fingers up inside of you harshly.

“please,” you breathe out. but it wasn’t like how you’ve been saying the word earlier. it was more absentminded, more like a moan.

and he’s grinning wildly. “’please’ what?”’

the tears are collecting on your chin and it tickles uncomfortably. you squeeze your eyes shut and try to shut him out but it leaves your focus on his fingers and how it makes you feel and you feel yourself get wetter.

“’please’, what schatzi.” his voice is closer, his breath is hot on your skin. 

you turn further, tilting your head higher. away from the sound of his voice. you hear him growl a little in frustration. you expect his fingers to halt. you expect to be hit. you expect pain.

instead he kisses you.

your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, muffling out protests. you begin to struggle again. but he doesn’t relent. his fingers continue ruining you and his lips move against yours. his other hand is on the back of your head and pulling you deeper in, helping him angle himself better. he’s so strong and he’s all over you. all you can feel is him, all you can smell is him, all you can taste is him.

he’s moving faster and

you give in.

you let him kiss you. you let yourself feel it. you’re getting close and he can tell too. you let yourself go limp and you let him do this. you move against his fingers and you’re almost thankful for his mouth on yours so your moans aren’t too loud but shit, why are you moaning in the first place?

he’s smiling against your lips and you can see it so well in your minds eye.

you’re almost thankful for the restraints because if your hands were free they’d be desperate. grasping at his shirt and through his hair and anything to keep you stable. your fingers fidget behind you.

he’s nibbling on your lip in between kisses. you can tell he wants to bite harder but he doesn’t. he’s pressing his lips against you, growling and moaning.

“shit schatzi.” 

your whole body feels so warm and you think you like how he smells right now. you’re soaked at this point and his fingers are moving with ease. a light sweat breaks out on your skin. his hand moves to the small of your back and you shudder. he’s pulling your body against his the best he can give the ties. your panting in time with his movements. he thrusts himself against your leg. the bulge in his pants is warm too and it feels good, everything feels so good.

he pulls his lips away but keeps his forehead rested against yours. you look into his eyes. his hair is long and covers them a bit but from what you can see his pupils are blown wide and his stare is intense. it makes your shudder. you remember.

_(his forehead on yours as he’s thrusting inside of you. his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s panting hard. he’s breathing out your name like you were something more perfect than you are. and he always made you feel like that. like you were perfect but you just couldn’t see it. and even if you never saw it, you knew he did that always made you feel good.)_

“are you close?” strade whispers. his smile is subtle, but triumphant. like he’s won. and you can’t say with confidence he hasn’t. but that’s at the back of your mind. all you can feel is him and the warmth and your wetness and you are close. you’re really close.

“yes.” you whisper as you pant. he chuckles and it’s almost sweet.

“do you want to come for me?” he says, his eyes are bright and wide. he’s looking at you as if he wants to eat you whole. like he wants to devour you and leave the remains for the roaches. 

“please,” you breathe out. he laughs. you close your eyes and he’s rutting against you again. like an animal. he’s probably taking in the sight of you. broken, begging. begging for him. he kisses you again and it’s softer this time. it’s gentle and wrong because it’s like how _he’d kiss you_. but. you can pretend. 

he’s kissing you and he’s rutting against your leg and you move together. his fingers are thrusting and his thumb on your clit is circling hard and you feel sweat rolling down the back of your neck and you are whining because it shouldn’t feel so good. but it does. you pull away. you tense, you feel your muscles coiling, you’re shuddering.

“please! please, i’m gonna–” 

_(”i’m gonna come! please, baby don’t stop. please oh my god, oh fuck”)_

you meant to say your boyfriend’s name but it’s lost in translation and you say strade’s instead.

tears roll down your cheeks and you can’t tell if it’s because you’ve never stopped crying or because of how good this feels. you’re boneless and everything is so bright but it doesn’t last. all too quickly everything comes back into focus.

you are breathing heavy, still shaking in the afterglow. there’s nothing relaxing about this, no peace or bliss. the second you came, you were brought out of the haze of lust and left with loathing and guilt and disgust. 

and the thought of you boyfriend, it’s softer now. washed out. you see his face, contorted into a sad, disapproving look. ‘i loved you, schatzi’. you can hear him saying it. you can hear him say

_“ich liebe dich, schatzi”_

and you look at strade in horror. you know he doesn’t mean it. you know he’s just saying it to get to you so you shouldn’t let it get to you but it _does_.

“how could you?” you whisper. it’s soft but it carries all your anguish, all your hate. it’s the only thing you can say because it’s the only thing you can think. after everything he’s done he has the audacity to say these words. to say it like _he’d_ say it.

strade is chuckling but he has a cruel look in his eye. like this is far from over. like this is just the beginning. and you’re not ready.

you’re scared. you’re hurt. you’re angry. there’s no way you can die pliantly and peacefully now. (you can’t even think about the love of your life without feeling a deep, soul rotting shame)

not only did he ruin your past for you, he did the one thing that could break your resolve.

strade gave you the will to live.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to [@holygost](http://holygost.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!! fyi it's really hard to not spoil a fic when the person you are making it for is translating all the german for you ;;; 
> 
> speaking of germans ! translations: 
> 
> \- schatz / schatzi - "darling”, mostly commly said between couples (lmao) schatzi is the more cute ver
> 
> \- liebling - i’m sure everyone who’s strade trash knows it but it’s “darling”, “lovely”, etc.
> 
> \- sprichst du Deutsch - “do you speak german” 
> 
> \- ich werde dir nicht weh tun - “i won’t hurt you” 
> 
> \- lass mich dich zufrieden stellen - “let me satisfy you”
> 
> \- braves Mädchen - “good girl”
> 
> \- Scheiße - “shit”
> 
> \- ich liebe dich - “i love you”


End file.
